PROLOGUE

        I’ve been stuck in this room for over 263 days, with nothing to do but read the same book over again for the 86^th time today (good thing books were invented, at least I had something to accompany me). I am surrounded by four walls, one window and one solitary door. 6,312 hours passed since I last had a step on the ground outside this mentally suffocating room, spending hours watching helplessly as life goes on in the streets below me, people slowly fading out of my sight as they walk on without stopping, cars rushing off, streetlights blinking in the darkness.

        I’ve been diagnosed with Leukemia when I was 8 years old. I have gone back to this hospital countless of times, and ironically enough, I spent more of my existence staying in this hospital than I did at home. My doctor would always tell me that, ‘I’m going to be better soon, so I have to stay strong’. I’ve heard enough of that phrase; I’ve grown sick to it, because that just crushed all my hopes, knowing that I never once felt better nor fine. But you know what crushed me big time? It was my mom, seeing her cry, because her only daughter is suffering physically and dying emotionally.

I’m not giving up on life, but I could say I am ready to die. I should at least be.

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